


Lazarus in Yharnam

by narla_hotep



Series: Embryogenesis [3]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Character Death, Weird Perspective, god!hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:12:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narla_hotep/pseuds/narla_hotep
Summary: Gilbert is alone and dying on the night of the Hunt, until he meets a strange girl who's been forced into the role of a hunter and doesn't even remember her own name. Now he is still dying, but at least he is no longer alone. And even death may not be permanent for someone who has friends in high places...





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my interpretation of the story of Gilbert from Bloodborne, from the perspective of my character Demetria. Can be seen as a companion fic to “A Hunter is Never Alone” and “To Silence its Harrowing Cry,” just showing Demetria’s relationships with different characters. Sorry if the perspective is a bit weird switching from first person to third person and going between both characters, it's halfway intentional and halfway lazy writing :P

 

My mind goes places sometimes. Even at this crucial moment, the physical aspect of my task isn’t enough to occupy me. Once I’ve learned the lessons of bone and sinew, I move on to flesh and blood. Clods of earth from the ground in front of me, pulling apart and then coming together. Water from a nearby river. Trace elements and minerals from the rocks and the air. All these things make a human body, when combined together in the right ways. I could make this easier on myself. Could start with a template; a corpse or a person that no one would miss. But that wouldn't be fair to poor Gilbert. After all he's been through, he deserves better, and it's somehow important to me to make him into something new. 

* * *

“Oh, you must be a hunter,” the man in the window says as he hears a hesitant knocking against its crosshatched grate. He can smell the moonlit scent, one that native Yharnamites once taught him to associate with hunters. The girl outside wears the garb of a hunter as well, stained with blood and what looks like filth from the sewers. He sees the hesitant way she's standing, the confusion visible on the narrow part of her face that isn’t covered by black cloth, and he hedges a guess. “And not one from around here either. I’m Gilbert, a fellow outsider.” 

The girl at the window starts to introduce herself, and then stops. “I’m… I… I can’t remember, honestly.” She sounds ashamed, despondent. Her whole life thus far, all twelve or so hours of it, has been full of pain and death without a single light in the darkness. Her memory is a slippery thing, and without a past to anchor it the time seems endless. Except for a few small flashes of deja vu, everything feels as though she’s experiencing it for the first time. 

The man in the window leans over and coughs raggedly. “Can’t remember? Well I won’t pry any further,” he says when the coughing fit passes. The girl feels a stab of hurt as she realizes that he may have mistaken her amnesia for rudeness. “Anyway, you must have had a fine time of it. Yharnam has a special way of treating guests.” The girl snorts slightly at that, and after a pause for breath Gilbert feels like he can continue. “I don’t think I could stand if I wanted to, but I’d be willing to help, if there’s anything that can be done. This town is cursed. Whatever your reasons might be, you should plan a swift exit. Whatever can be gained from this place, it will do more harm than good.” 

The girl nods. Gilbert can barely make out her features, silhouetted against the setting sun. “Everyone here hates me. The people outside keep trying to kill me, and the ones in the houses won’t let me in.” She omits the fact that the mob outside _has_ killed her, many times already. If Gilbert didn’t know about her memory loss, she doubts he’d know why she keeps dying and then waking up again. Instead, she asks, “Have you heard of paleblood? I think I’m supposed to be looking for it."

Another fit of coughing. _What is wrong with this man,_ she wonders. _Isn’t Yharnam supposed to be a city that can cure all illnesses? Cursed or not, he likely came here to seek treatment, so why didn’t it work for him?_

“Paleblood, you say? Hmm, never heard of it. But if it’s blood you’re interested in, you should try the Healing Church.”

“What’s the Healing Church?” the girl asks curiously. Perhaps they could help her. 

“The church controls all knowledge on blood ministration, and all varieties of blood. Across the valley to the east of Yharnam lies the town of the Healing Church, known as the Cathedral Ward. And deep within the Cathedral Ward is the grand old cathedral… the birthplace of the Healing Church’s special blood, or so they say.” He stops and coughs again. “Yharnamites don’t share much with outsiders. Normally, they wouldn’t let you near this place, but… the hunt is on tonight. This might be your chance.”

“What is the hunt, exactly?” she asks. “I’ve talked to a lady who says she’s a hunter, and she told me that people are all turning into beasts here. Those villagers in the square did look awfully hairy…” 

“The hunt occurs every month,” Gilbert replies. “More often, as of late. Those native to Yharnam say that this city has been blessed by the blood, but even they’re beginning to agree that we are cursed instead. Sane men and women, turning into rabid beasts. I wish I had gotten out while I still could.” Gilbert’s voice is tinged with a touch of sadness.

“Why can’t you leave?” asks the girl. “You don’t sound very good, are you badly ill? And where do you want to go back to?” 

“I’m from London, originally,” Gilbert replies. "Was a schoolteacher for years before I fell ill with consumption. Coming to Yharnam stalled the course of the disease, but even their blood couldn’t stop it. And I stopped taking it when I heard rumors that it might be causing those people to turn.” 

“I see…” The girl says wistfully. “London, that sounds familiar. I wonder if I’m from there? And I’m sorry the Church couldn’t cure you. But I’ll go there now, maybe they have the type of blood you need too!” 

Before Gilbert can dissuade her from this naive optimism, the girl is gone. She leaves behind the faintly mingled scents of blood and moonlit flowers. 

* * *

“Gilbert!” yells the girl, startling him out of an uneasy doze. “I tried crossing the bridge, but there’s a giant beast there. Twenty feet tall, and with antlers! Do you know any other ways into the Cathedral Ward?” 

Gilbert takes a moment to get his thoughts in order, trying not to dwell on the fact that the beast plague must be getting worse than he’d thought if there are twenty-foot beasts casually roaming about. “An aqueduct leads from the town,” he wheezes. “South of the main bridge to the Cathedral Ward. Not a place you’d normally choose to visit, but… I take it you may have been there already?”

“I did fall into a sewer,” the girl admits with some embarrassment. “That’s where I found the other hunter, the crow lady. But I haven’t been very far down there yet. Thanks for the help!” 

* * *

“I found the Cathedral Ward,” the girl says the next time she arrives at his window. Her tone is more subdued this time, and she’s wearing a different outfit with a longer coat.  “There are some guards that look like they’re from the Church, but they don’t want anything to do with me either. I’ve found a few people alive, but they don’t know anything about the Church and just need a safe place to stay. I don’t know what to do, Gilbert.” 

“You could try the Grand Cathedral?” he suggests in between bouts of coughing, trying not to think of the way his vision is blurred and distorted or the red that stains his handkerchief. 

“Yeah, I could go up there,” she muses. “Or I could back down that hole into Old Yharnam. The sign says that hunters aren’t welcome, but maybe it’s worth a try. But Gilbert, I had another question.” There is a long silence. “Are you there?” 

“Yes, of course. Continue.” 

“The lady in the brothel, she asked my name like you did. But I wasn’t lying last time. I really don’t remember. Can you help me think of a name for myself?”

“That’s a lot of responsibility for someone you’ve just met tonight,” Gilbert says, but he’s already warming up to the challenge. 

“I’ve known you for a long time,” the girl says wistfully, wondering if it only feels like that because she can’t remember anything, or because it's Gilbert who can’t remember all the times she’s died and found herself back at his window. 

“What kind of name are you thinking of? We could do something traditional, or a more modern name, or -“ 

The girl interrupts him. “You said you used to be a teacher. Can you think of something from a story?” 

“I don’t know many children’s stories,” he says. “I taught at a university, so we were more focused on myths and legends. Something from classical mythology, perhaps? Something grand, like a goddess, to give you courage on this hunt.” 

“That would be nice,” she says. “I think I’m going to need it.”

“Hmm, let’s see. There’s Hestia, the goddess of the hearth. But I’m not sure that would fit you. Or Hebe, the personification of youth and beauty.” 

The girl shakes her head. “I wouldn’t call myself beautiful.”

“I doubt that, but all right. Nemesis is too harsh for you. We have Leto, or Rhea, or Aphrodite… Artemis, perhaps? She’s the goddess of the hunt, after all.”

“I didn’t ask to be a hunter,” the girl says. “This isn’t me, it’s just something that I’m doing. I just need to get my memory back and get out of here, and then I’ll realize who I really am.” 

“Hmm. You’re trapped here, aren’t you? But hopefully in a temporary manner. How about Persephone? She ate of the food in the underworld, and was forced to remain there for six months out of every year.” 

“I like the story,” she agrees. “But maybe not the name, or the feeling of being trapped. Who else is in the story?” 

“There’s her mother, Demeter. When Persephone was taken away by Hades, Demeter fell into a deep sorrow. Since she’s a goddess of agriculture, all the plants withered and died. Even now, she is sad every time her daughter is taken away, and that’s what they say causes winter. She’s also a bit of an unusual goddess because she doesn’t dwell in Mount Olympus, but instead stays close to her worshippers in their temples.”

“If I was a goddess, that's the kind of goddess I’d be,” the girl says. “I’d actually help people, instead of just sitting up there and refusing to answer their prayers. And Demeter sounds like a strong woman, if she can handle the loss of her child like that.” The girl feels as if there’s something else sitting on the tip of her tongue, another word waiting to be uttered. But she can’t remember what she has forgotten. “I like that one,” she agrees. “But it doesn’t sound enough like a woman’s name, and I want it to be my own version. I think I’ll go with Demetria.”

A bit of an unusual choice, thinks Gilbert. But he congratulates her all the same.

“Thank you, Gilbert,” she says, seemingly in higher spirits now. “I think I’m ready to go to Old Yharnam. But I’ll be back later, so don’t get too bored while I’m gone!” 

“I’ll see you later, Demetria,” he replies, and even through the half-shut window he can sense the little thrill that goes through her at the sound of her name. The girl walks off, a new spring in her step, and Gilbert releases the bone-wracking cough he’s been suppressing ever since she came. 

* * *

The next time he sees her again, the sun has already sunk below the horizon, and his spirits have sunk with it. He’s getting random waves of dizziness now, and is finding it hard to even stay upright in his chair. He wants to lie down in his bed, but the distance across the room feels endless. But when the girl shows up he puts on a brave face, figuring that whatever she's been through must be worse than his petty concerns. 

“Demetria,” he rasps. “How goes the hunt?” 

“I… I think I’ve killed the Vicar of the Healing Church,” she says hesitantly. “I just wanted to talk, but she turned into a giant beast! And I’ve been to Old Yharnam already. There’s another hunter there, who says I should stop killing beasts and question the hunt. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Gilbert. The Church is in ruins and no one will tell me anything. I’m not sure where to go from here.” She sighs, leaning up against the window. She still smells like moonlight, but the sweet scent is now overlaid with overtones of smoke and charred flesh. “And how are you doing, Gilbert? You don’t sound too good.” 

“Ahh, you needn’t concern yourself with me,” Gilbert replies. “I’m afraid there’s nothing left for me now, but I can still be of some help to you. Here,” he says, bending over in his chair to grasp the object beside it. His head spins as he straightens up again, and when he leans forward to unlatch the window he thinks he will actually faint. 

“It’s… a flamesprayer,” the girl says as she examines the object. “Like the church wardens had in the Cathedral Ward.” Then she leans forward to get a better look at Gilbert before he closes the window again. She sees a thin man, hunched over in pain, but his hair is dark rather than silver in the lantern’s light. He looks younger than she’d thought, perhaps only a few years past her own age - whatever that may be. His face looks kind, and his eyes are a piercing shade of blue. If it wasn’t for the gauntness and pallor caused by his illness, she might even find him attractive.  “Thanks for this,” she says softly, laying a gloved hand on the wrought-iron grate that covers the window. “I’m sure it will help.” 

* * *

She uses the flamesprayer twice: once against a crowd of shrieking women who rush at her in Hemwick Charnel Lane, and again when she falls into a nest of snakes in the Forbidden Woods. It is in the depth of the forest that she first meets other hunters, drawn by her desperate ringing of the bell that connects the gaps between worlds. She is so caught up in the excitement of cooperation that it is some time before she returns to Central Yharnam again, stopping by to collect more blood vials before she returns to the abandoned university at the edge of the forest. 

“Gilbert,” she calls out as she approaches. “Sorry for taking so long, but I’ve been awfully lost in the woods. How are you feeling?” 

“Terrible,” he groans from inside the tiny room. There is no strength to his voice, just a quiet breathless muttering. “Why did this have to happen to me? Dear gods, what have I done?” 

“This isn’t your fault,” she says fiercely, crowding close to his window. “And you’re going to make it through this. When this night ends, I’ll come back and take you to see a doctor. Maybe we can go to Iosefka’s clinic. I can take you now, even, if you give me a minute to get rid of all the beasts in our way.”

“No!” Gilbert gasps with all the force he can muster. “It’s too late for me now… But at least I won’t be like the beasts out there. At least I can die human.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she chides him. “Just let me in, I can help you."

“If doctors could help,” he starts, and then has to pause for breath. He feels as though he’s drowning, unable to inhale without choking on his own blood. And his skin feels terribly itchy, and something has gone wrong with his eyes…”If doctors could help, don’t you think they would have already?” 

The girl turns away sadly. “I believe you can make it,” she says again, but with less conviction this time. “Just do this for me, okay? Just hold on until the sun rises.” 

* * *

She returns again, victorious. But despite the elation of killing yet another monster, the girl appears deeply disturbed. “Have you seen the sky, Gilbert?” she asks half to herself as she turns the corner toward his house. The red moon hangs overhead like a bloated maggot, and the clouds roil with unnatural purple hues. 

The girl is looking up at the sky, so it takes her a second to notice that something is equally wrong in the world below. Then she’s nearly knocked off her feet by the force of a beast barreling into her, teeth bared and claws extended. For a moment, she’s confused. This small, hunched thing looks like the beasts from Old Yharnam, but what is one of them doing all the way over here? She hits it once with her axe before she realizes, in that moment as the beast is cringing away from her blow. 

“No!” she gasps, recoiling from the creature that still has patches of Gilbert’s dark hair and those briefly-glimpsed blue eyes. “You said you’d die human!” The beast only growls at her, ignoring the bleeding gash in its shoulder. She jumps to her feet as it- _he_ \- rushes her again, and manages to dodge the grasp of his claws. In a blind panic, still unable to accept what she is seeing, the girl runs toward the ladder that leads down to the lower streets of Yharnam and throws herself onto it. The beast that once was Gilbert chases after her, and for one heart-stopping moment she thinks he's going to follow her all the way down the ladder.

What actually happens is even worse. In its desire to pursue her, the beast ignores the ladder entirely and runs over the edge with no sense of self-preservation. For one split second its legs churn on empty air, and then it plummets to the ground like a rock. A thud and a yowl of agony mark its contact with the brick road below it, and the girl slides down the rest of the ladder with her heart in her throat. 

“Gilbert, no,” she moans, staring at the twisted mass of fur and flesh. His face is empty, inhuman, and his limbs continue to twitch. She’s witnessed enough men transforming into beasts this far into the night, and she knows a lost cause when she sees one. Part of her wants to return to the Dream and come back to see if anything changes, but deep down inside she knows that doing this would only extend Gilbert's suffering. Even if she returns to a time a few minutes earlier, the red moon would still hang low and Gilbert would still be a beast. There is nothing left of the man she’d once spoken to in this creature’s eyes.

Demetria raises her axe for the finishing blow, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall and mingle with the blood of her only friend in Yharnam. 

* * *

“Gilbert,” the girl says gently, only he is no longer a beast and she’s no longer a girl. “Gilbert, wake up."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave kudos or - even better! - a comment if you liked it. I know I'm far from the best on this site at writing Gilbert from Bloodborne, but it was just a random idea I had and felt the need to get it down on "paper" (aka my computer)


End file.
